"Any news for me?" Malone said.
Fernack waited a long time before he answered, and when he did his voice was dangerously soft and calm. "Malone," he said, "when you asked for this survey, just what kind of news did you expect to get anyway?"
"An awful lot of impossible crimes," Malone said frankly. "How did I do, John Henry?"
"You did very well," Fernack said. "Too well. Listen, Malone, how could you know about anything like this?"
Malone blinked. "Well," he said, "we have our sources. Confidential. Top secret. I'm sure you understand, commissioner." Hurriedly, he added: "What does the breakdown look like?"
"It looks like hell," Fernack said. "About eight months ago, according to the computer, there was a terrific upswing in certain kinds of crime. And since then it's been pretty steady, right at the top of the swing. Hasn't moved down hardly at all."
"Great," Malone said.
Fernack stared. "What?" he said.
"I mean—" Malone stopped, thought of an answer and tried it: "I mean, that checks out my guess. My information. Sources."
Fernack seemed to weigh risks in his mind. "Malone, I know you're FBI," he said at last. "But this sounds pretty fishy to me. Pretty strange."